dream

- Help -

I type:
I think I remember something about a rude, eavesdropping book-store guy. What's it to you anyway?

It sends.
Instead of waiting for a reply, I turn my phone on silent and go back to reading.

Every now and then I see a flash of light appear in the corner of my eye and can't help but answer.

By the end of Of Mice and Men, I have only understood half of what the book was telling me, the other half was spent replying to Harry.

In that time I've learnt that he lives quite local to Oxford Street, the place he works, and that he is not the owner of the shop; nor would he like to be.

In fact he would like to work as a lawyer and whilst he is studying in college he decided to get a weekend job working in the book-store to earn some money on the side.

He is only two years older than me, being 17, which surprised me bearing in mind he is underage for a sleeve of tattoos. He said, and I quote, 'let's just say I look older than what I am,' which was true.

I stopped talking to him over an hour ago now, not that I was bothered whether I was talking to him or not, but my phone died and I still haven't been motivated enough to move yet and charge it.

Not realising the day had sped by quite quickly, my mother calls me into the kitchen for dinner. When I look up at the clock, above the door of the kitchen, it reads 6:45.

"You've been in your room all day" My mother states as if I do anything else other than stay in my room.
"Yeah?" I shrug.
"You were out all day yesterday, I just thought you would've-" she stops herself from continuing but it's too late, I already know what she was about to say.

"Would've what?" I snap, sitting down at the dinning table with a thud.
"Don't talk to your mother with that attitude missy" my father pipes up.
"I want to know what she was going to say" I reply.

"It doesn't matter dear" she doesn't look at me, "eat up" waving her fork in the air as she speaks.
"Tell me what you were about to say" I demand.

It is complete silence for a second, my brother, father and mother all seem to be staring at me as if I've grown two heads.

"Changed! I thought you would've changed Ariel" she raises her voice and my heart plummets, "you can't blame me for thinking that. You lock yourself in your room everyday, you have for years! You do the same thing day-in day-out and I've had just about enough of it! We all have"

"You think I like being like this? Well here's a news flash for you, I don't! I hate it in fact. I'm sick of this pointless life and you all need to realised that!" I shout back, tears beginning to prick in the corners of my eyes but I hold them in, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

"And that is why they're sending you to get help" My brother says, shaking his head.

"Bradley Hill! Get to your room right now!" my father shouts.

Sending me to get help? What? They can't, they wouldn't. "Is that true?" I turn my head away from the both of them, not believing what I'm hearing.

"It will do you some good, you even said so yourself that you hate being 'like this' so what's the worst that can happen?" My father explains whilst comforting my now-crying mother.

"I don't- I- Why?" I choke.
"Because we love you" My parents reply in unison.

I don't bother eating my dinner before standing up and nearly sprinting to my room. Why would they do this? I am fine!

Slamming the door behind me I lean my back up against it before sliding down it, my face in my hands, and sit and cry.

I cry so hard my chest hurts, I can't breathe, I don't want to.

Instead I curl up into a ball and hold my chest as tight as I can manage, I squeeze my eyes shut and before I know it, sleep takes over me.

Swirls of black and white dance in front of my eyelids, circling and spiralling. I try and concentrate as hard as can, trying to come up with some sort of image of what I am seeing but I can't think of anything. It isn't anything? My dream ends.

"Ariel? We need to leave hunny, get up" I hear my mother say.
"Hmm" I groan, trying to force the image back into my mind.
"Now" She presses.
"I'm awake" I say, pushing myself out of bed. How did I get here?

"Did you put me to bed?" I ask my mother.
"Yes, now hurry up" she rushes me towards the bathroom, shoving some clothes at me to wear before shutting the door after me.

It takes me only 10 minutes to shower before I'm finished and step out, drying off and putting the outfit on my mother picked out. I dry my hair as much as I can with a towel and brush my teeth.

Once my hair is finally dry, I apply some mascara and throw my purse over my shoulder before jumping into the passenger seat of my car, next to my brother with both my mother and father in the front.

"Where are we going may I ask?" I say, still with an attitude from the night before.

"We are taking you to your first group therapy session" My father says with a little to much enthusiasm.
"You're what?!" I shout.